The Triumvirate of Trouble
by skipmunks
Summary: Sequel to Memoirs of an Indecent Gryffindor. Sarah Poe is beginning her 4th year. Laughs. Tears. Detention. Series of lengthy drabblings.
1. The World Cup

"Honestly, girls you've got to get moving!"

Suddenly the nice, dark bedroom was peirced by the orange light of dawn as Mrs. Thimbleword opened the blinds.

From somewhere amoungst the sea of fluffy white blanket, Jill groaned.

"You have to be out the door in half an hour, do you hear me?"

I opened one eye lazily.

The large, four poster bed that Jill and I were nested in stood, bathing in the glow.

The room was chilly, as it was late summer, and the thought of getting out of the cozy comforter was the least friendly thought in my mind.

The smell of coffee and cinnamon wafted up through the open door, kissing my nose.

Beside me, Jill's arms rose in a very large stretch.

"Why in bloody hell did we go to sleep at 3?"

I didn't answer. But then, she wasn't really expecting one.

With a withered, pathetic sigh, I rolled out of bed and groped groggily for my slacks.

--

By some miracle, half an hour later, I was dressed and heading out of the house with Jillian and her father.

Mr. Thimbleword was Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes at the Ministry. He had gotten the tickets to the Quidditch World Cup (to which we were now headed) from his friend, Mr. Nickelby, over at the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

"Come along, girls, keep up! Good gracious!" Mr. Thimbleword huffed as we ascended a rather large hill.

I looked over at Jill. She was walking in a zombie- like manner with her rucksack lolling lazily off one shoulder. Her free hand clutched her thermos of coffee as if it were the Elixir of Life.

I lowered the brim of my beat up newsboy hat as the blinding dawn light popped over the peak of the hill and hit me square in the face.

Alot of thoughts ran through my mind, things I could say to Jill, but we both had this air of walking wounded about us.

It was too early for words.

The excitement of today was celebrated far too long into the night.

Our first Quidditch World Cup! Seeing our friends! Snogging our loves!

We had been wound up on butterbeer and Bertie Bott's every flavor Beans, till around 3 o clock this morning.

Ya know. 2 and a half hours ago.

"There it is girls! Over there!"

Jill and I lumbered over to where her father was standing, over a discarded car tire.

I raised my eyebrow.

Jill sighed out her nose, and kneeled down, putting a finger on the tire.

"Wash your hands when we get there." Her father advised, as he did the same.

Oh.

The tire was the portkey.

_Gosh I'm slow this morning_.

Taking the thermos from Jill and clutching it, I also put a finger on the portkey.

Immediately I felt a pulling sensation behind my bellybutton.

The Hillstop went hazy around us, and all I was aware of was the tickling sensation of falling.

As suddenly as it had started, the tickling sensation stopped, and I was flung onto solid ground with such force that the wind was knocked out of me.

"Bloody..." I groaned, trying to breathe as best I could.

Jill sat up a few yards away, whimpering and rubbing her back.

"I bet that was a waker upper." Grinned Jill's dad, who had landed perfectly on his feet.

"Shut up." Jill snapped, brushing the dirt off her pretty red sweater.

I stood shakily, and retrieved the thermos from the ground beside me, clutching it to my breast protectively.

"So...This is the World Cup?" Jill spoke for what for some reason sounded like her first words of today.

I looked out beyond us. Miles of tents. Like a small army of fat white triangles, filled with a buzz of activiy that seemed unnartural for that time of day.

I grinned.

The air was filled with the smell of campfire, fireworks, and breakfast. It seemed somehow to compliment the laughter, song, and hum of excited fans.

I looked over at Jill. She was grinning too.

"Well, we didn't come all this way just to look at it." Mr. Thimbleword said as he set off towards the feild of tents.

You could see who Jill got her patience from.

Jill rolled her eyes and pushed her hair behind her ear as we followed her father into the beehive of actvity.

---------------

Our tent was a little on the large side, as the Thimblewords were a well respected wizarding family and her father's job at the ministry left them better off.

I walked inside, expecting something a little like the Weasley's tent.

Boy was I mistaken.

I found myself walking through the flap and into what seemed to be the living room, complete with four creamy white armchairs and a black and white tile floor.

Tapestries of varied shades of blue seemed to make up the sloping walls of the tent, casting everything in a faint bluish light. It complimented the small silver chandelier that had sent little reflections of light skittering across the rich fabric.

To the left of the sitting room was a small kitchen, with a breakfast nook comprised of off white benches with fluffy blue cushions.

Jillian huffed past me with a rather annoyed sounding "Ex-CUSE me!"

I pulled myself out of my awe stricken trance and followed her into our bunks.

As was the rest of the tent, the bunks were also exquisite.

Jill sat on the edge of the white scrolled metal canopy bed, roughly shoving her socks into a dainty nighttable drawer.

"You don't mind if I take this side, do you?" she didn't look up as she spoke.

"Not at all."

I flung my satchel down beside her and sat.

I dug through it and found the flashing four-leaf clover pin I had bought, and pinned it to my green sweater.

I was rooting for Ireland all the way.

Although, there was definitely something to be said for that burning hunk of manflesh, Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian seeker.

I guess I didn't really mind who won, as long as I got to see it.

Jillian was already painting her face with red and black stripes.

She knew about as much about Quidditch as Hermione Granger, but she knew who Draco was rooting for, and that's all that mattered in her color selection.

"I wonder if Fred and George are here yet." I wondered out loud.

"Well. The Malfoys have been here since yesterday evening. They're going to be in the Minister's box with us."

My eyes widened.

"WHAT? We're going to be in the minister's box?!?!?! How?!"

"Well goodness we TOLD you we got the tickets from Mr. Nickelby."

I looked at her in confusion.

She sighed impatiently.

"He's one of Fudge's dearest friends. Honestly Sarah you are very dull."

I giggled happily and flopped backwards.

I probably should'nt tell Fred and George.

They might think I'm bragging.

BUT GOSH!

Minister's Box?

Wow.

---------------------

I emerged from the tent a few hours later, feeling much better after my third cup of coffee and some pancakes.

_Now to find the Weasleys._

I looked around, sheepishly.

How do I find them?

Bugger.

I heard the sound of some firecrackers to my left. It gave me hope, and I started in that direction.

I mean, noise and the twins often go hand in hand.

Unfortunately that particular loud bang belonged to someone else.

As did the next.

And the next.

I looked around me in the sea of tents.

A little panicky, I took a soothing breath inwards to recollect my thoughts.

_I am not lost. I am NOT lost._

I am so lost.

I quickened my pace a little.

All around me, little kids were racing around on brooms and yelling and laughing and jumping on my last nerve.

I wish I had a broom right about now.

"Sally?"

A voice had sounded directly behind me and made me jump about a thousand feet.

"George!" I sighed, throwing my arms aroud him. "How have you been? I was looking everywhere for you! I got lost! And the bloody little things whizzing around here and Where's Fred?"

"Good. Good. Haha. Damn them all and I dont know."

I stood back and looked him up and down.

"You couldnt possibly have gotten taller!"

"Youre too used to Fred. I always have been the taller and more impressive twin." He puffed out his chest.

"You wish!" Said Fred, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

"Bloody Hell!" I shreiked, jumping again. "I'm going to put a collar with a bell on you two!"

"Nice to see you too." Grinned Fred.

I stood on my tip toes in an attempt to give him a kiss, but still only reached his bottom lip.

"I'll have to buy you a stool."

I scrunched my nose up in mock- offense.

"Ok. Well. Since we found you, what would you like to do?"

"You didn't find me!"

"Yes we did." George restated.

"What is there to do?"

"I thought you'd been here all day! Havent you been looking around?"

"Well...yes."

Fred smirked at me.

"You weren't lost were you?"

I looked up at him with a look of complete ablebodiedness.

"Of course not!"

Fred and George snickered.

"You were SO lost!"

"No!"

And thats when George put me in a headlock and I was attacked.

With tickles.

I hated being tickled, it really is painful when you don't enjoy it.

My hat fell off and I was shreiking in pained laughter.

Gosh, It was good to be back with my boys.


	2. Death Eaters

A/n: HELLO AVID READERS!!! soooo sorry about the delay. Funny thing happened. My computer died. hard drive just decided to go and crash. sadface

HOWEVER FEAR NOT! went and sacrificed a virgin to the Geek Squad and got all my precious fanfics recovered.

So, please, enjoy this chapter.

-----------------------------

"Can you believe him? Krum? Hottness on a _stick_!"

I sashayed around the cuddling lump of Jill and Malfoy. We were just outside the Thimbleword's tent, enjoying the warm blue flames of their conjured fire.

Ireland had won. Krum had caught the snitch.

Krummmmmmm. Yummmmmm.

I hadn't been this hyper since...well, last night. But the match was amazing!

The seat's in the minister's box were bloody spectacular, aside from Draco-Jillian sneaky snogging whenever the moment presented itself..

I did a pirouette and landed gracefully on the side of my foot, losing my balance and knocking into Jill.

"Will you sit down a minute! I'm getting dizzy looking at you." Jill snapped, pulling her gaze off of Malfoy momentarily.

I looked at her with googly eyes.

"He's KRUMDIDDLYUMPTIOUS!" I shreiked, collapsing onto the ground.

She rolled her eyes.

I smiled inspite of myself.

Today had been so perfect.

I closed my eyes and slipped into a state of complete awareness. The smell of the campfire and dirt. The warm heat on the bottom of my sneakers. The shreiking and laughter from everywhere around us.

But wait...There wasn't any laughter.

Just screams.

I opened my eyes.

"Jill.." I began to ask, looking around us.

"GIRLS!" Jillian's father stepped into the firelight, illuminating his features in a pale glow. "Grab your wands and follow me- quickly!"

Jill clutched Draco fretfully.

The screams were becoming louder.

Whatever it was was on the move.

"Come on!" Mr. Thimbleword urged, taking Jill's hand.

I followed, tripping over people and supplies abandoned in the dewy grass.

My heartrate quickened.

I looked behind me for a splitsecond but could only see a crowd of wizards and witches heading out of there in our fashion.

I turned back to the front.

I could't see Jill or her father.

We'd gotten seperated.

"JILL! JILL!" I cried, whipping my head about, trying to catch a glimpse of her bright red sweater.

A cold sweat burst forth on my forehead.

Oh god. Oh god.

I just kept moving forward with the crowd.

Trying to keep my head.

Oh god.

"JILL!" I cried once more, in vain.

Calm down, just breathe. We're all going in the same direction. I'll catch up with them eventually.

We were beginning to break through the endge of the forest.

A small meadow spread out before the crowd, and we swarmed it like ants.

Slowing down, I looked at all the panicking, screaming people around me.

"Jill! Jill!" I tried over and over again.

Suddenly, beside me a witch shreiked, flinging her hand to the sky.

I looked up.

There, rising just over the tops of the trees, a grinning skull opened its jaws to a glittering serpent.

My heart sunk.

_He who must not be named._

Without realizing it, a few tears spilled over the edges of my eyes.

I was so frightened.

I dragged my eyes away from the sky.

I looked frantically all around me, looking for a afamiliar face.

Finally, I found one.

I wave of warmth broke over me, and I ran over to George and clutched to him like a frightened child.

"Sarah! Sarah, are you okay?" he asked, wrenching himself around so he could see my face.

I felt myslef shaking against him.

"He's here!" I muttered feebly, my lips quivering.

"No, it'll be alright... Fred! Fred, over here!" George called.

The other twin soon came up to us, holding a frighetened Ginny in his free hand.

"Are you alright?" Fred put both hands on my shoulders.

The noise of the crowd around us was muting Fred's voice, even though he was shouting inches in front of my face.

I was shaking so terribly I couldn't even answer.

"Sarah?" his hands moved to the sides of my head, looking into my face as if to be sure it hand't melted off or something.

The greenish light of the Dark Mark had bathed everyone's face in a sickening greenish glow. I pushed my head into the folds of his sweater, trying to disappear.

"Shhhhhh..." He hissed softly, even though I wasn't making any noise. His shaking hand was trying very hard to play the manly part, patting my back and smoothing my hair. However the childlike beating of his heart gave away his true feelings.

"Ron!" I heard George exclaim.

"We can't find Harry!" Hermione's shrill voice entered the chaotic jumble of voices surrounding my head.

I lifted my head and blinked my eyes, adjusting to the sick green world bustling before me.

"What's happening?" I cried through trembling lips.

"Death Eaters." George said in a low voice.

Death Eaters? What was this, some sick nightmare? Someone's psychotic joke?

"I want to find Dad!" Ginny shreiked.

"No! No. We have to stay together."

With my hand in one hand and Ginny's in the other, Fred began pushing his way through the mess of wizards and witches.

"Fred! Stop here." George had a hand resting on the trunk of a tree. "Don't go any further until we're all together."

Fred walked over to join his brother.

I followed, and greatfully leaned my head against the rough trunk, sliding down, and watched as the world slowly stopped spinning.

Ginny plopped down beside me, and leaned her head on my shoulder.

I didn't say anthing. And I knew I didn't have to.

We were gonna be okay.

I-----

it must've been close to 4 in the morning when Mr. Weasley's misty outline came charging towards us in the misty dawn.

"Boys! Oh my boys!" he cried, tucking a twin under each arm.

Ginny hopped up immediately and ran to her father, squeezing him around the middle.

"SARAH ELISE JOSEPHINE POE!"

I whipped my head upwards to see Jill, both terrified and overjoyed.

She ran over to me and accepted me into a bone-cracking embrace.

"DON'T. YOU. EVER. FRIGHTEN. ME. LIKE. THAT. AGAIN."

I exhaled, seeing my breath turn to smoke in the chilly air.

"Please, take me home."


	3. Felines and Facial Hair

I tugged at the edge of my rough grey skirt, which was cheekily inching its way upwards, revealing much too much of my legs.

Ya know, after 4 years you'd think I would be sensible enough to buy a new uniform.

I squirmed on the hard oak bench in the Great Hall; jammed as always in between the bodies of Fred and George.

The ride up on the Hogwarts Express was particularly aggrivating this year, thanks to a certain scraggly-looking black cat that I gotten over the summer.

I fingered a smarting claw mark on the side of my wrist.

sodding cat...

Whoever invented the phrase "letting the cat out of the bag" apparently never attempted to keep a cat in a bag.

Or a basket for that matter.

In fact, I bet--

"...Deeply honored that this year, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournement!!!" Dumbledore's voice interrupted my thoughts.

The Great Hall errupted in noise from all around me.

George and Fred began pounding on the table with their fists and cheering like monkeys.

The Triwizard Tournament? Wasn't that banned?

Oh well.

I stood up and cheered with the rest of my classmates.

I would definitely enter! Think of the adventure that would be!

The danger! The breif glory of being dodgier than Harry Potter!

After all, Quidditch can only get so exciting before you--

"...Are excited to welcome the proud sons of Durmstrang!!" My ears picked up another Dumbledore sentence that penetrated my ever-talking mind.

Durmstrang? As in Bulgaria? As in...

My mouth flopped open like a fish as Viktor Krum hunched past me.

I grabbed Fred's hand and let out an ear shattering girly scream.

Lucklily, I was far from alone, as the rest of the room errupted into a mass of shreiks.

"Ohmigod! OHMIGOD!" I gasped, fanning my blushing face.

Fred tugged on my sleeve and pulled me back onto the bench with a thud.

The apocalyptic shreiks of feminosity had subsided into a dull roar, and many of the other girls sat back down as well.

"He's duckfooted." Fred whispered haughtily.

"Marvelously duckfooted." I cooed.

Fred made a disgusted face and turned around in his seat, as if repulsed by my presence.

I would've apologized for being a bloody bint, but Dumbledore had just called Bartimus Crouch to the podium to explain a few rules.

"As safety precautions for this year, no student under the age of 17 will be allowed to participate-"

The entire hall errupted in protest.

"THATS RUBBISH!" shouted George, who had gotten to his feet along with the majority of the students.

I felt a stab of disappointment.

There goes all the fun.

There goes the Joke Shop that Fred and George would buy with the prize money.

All gone. Like a popped balloon.

Mr. Crouch leaned over and tapped the Triwizard Cup, which seemed to melt into a stony, rough looking goblet. Blue flames were flickering and leaping out of it.

Distracted by this pretty cup, most of the students quieted down.

"All students OVER the age of 17 who wish to do so may enter their names into the Goblet of Fire." He motioned to the goblet beside him. "The 3 champions will be drawn at the end of the week."

I looked over at Fred.

He didn't nearly look as upset as I thought he'd be.

I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

He merely smirked, in that impish way that he so mastered.

I grinned back.

He had a plan.

As always.

---------------------------

"Severus! Get OFF!"

I grunted as I pushed my scraggly looking cat off my Defense Against the Dark Arts parchment.

Severus landed on his feet, as most cats do, and looked up at me reproachfully.

"Dont gimme that look." I sighed and scooped him up, patting his soot colored head.

His purr sounded oily; like a handful of mucus covered marbles glopping around in a tin can.

He really was an oddball.

The portrait hole was suddenly flug open and two chuckling redheads came scrambling inside.

Fred and George. As if they needed an introduction.

"Hello, beautiful." Fred chirped.

I blushed and muttered an 'awww'.

"No, not you. The cat." he teased,kissing me on the cheek. "Georgie and I found a little loophole in the Tournament rules."

"Like hell you did." I mumbled, shifting Severus on my lap.

George grinned and pulled 2 vials out of his robe sleeves.

"Whats that?" my voice was full of skepticism.

"Aging potion." Said George simply.

I gave both of them a look. A look that clearly said, "I'm not even going to say anything to you because this idea is so pathetic that I wouldn't waste the breath to tell you so."

"Oh, just come on!" Fred urged, grabbing my hand that was petting the cat and wrenching me out of the chair.

Severus fell to the ground, and with an angry flick of the tail, wandered off to go kill things.

It was raining buckets as Fred yanked me out across the courtyard, George in hot persuit.

I let out a shocked scream as the cold water hit my face and the back of my neck.

I heard the twins giggle at my distress.

Finally we ducked under the archway that lead into the room that was designated for the Goblet- it was an auditorium of sorts.

Full, of course, with students.

"Well, ladies and gents, we've done it!" Fred announced, lifting a vial up towards the crowd.

"A loophole around ol' Dumbledore's age line." George finished, joining his brother in the limelight.

I shook my head and ran off to hide behind a rather thick bunch of first- years.

Putting Fred and George in the spotlight is the same as with a sunflower. They turn.

"Ready Fred?"

"Ready, George!"

And with that, the two of them downed the liquid in the vials.

For a few moments, the whole room was silent as the two of them stepped over the line.

My jaw dropped.

No way! No way!

The crowd cheered as they reached up to drop in their names.

Luckily.

There was a loud bang, and quite suddenly both Fred and George were hurtled from the circle, landing a few yards away.

I sighed and ran towards them.

"I TOLD you that that was a stupid--"

I was interrupted by a loud pop, which signified the sudden sprouting of identical floor length beards of Fred and George's faces.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!" I immediately collapsed to my knees, doubled over in uncontrolable laughter.

Oh boy.

Oh boys.

------------------------------------

It took a few days in the hospital wing and the choosing of the 3 Triwizard Champions to get the school to shut up about the beard thing. Fred loved the attention so much that he almost refused to shave off the stubble left over from his recent sprouting.

As I recall, our ensuing argument ended like this:

"See, this is why I won't let you have nice things. Because you wont let me grow majestic facial hair."

Then I started chasing him around with a razor and that was that.

School for the first part of the year was going extremely well.

The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Alastor "Mad- Eye" Moody, was about as far off his nut as you can get.

Neither Jill nor I seemed to enjoy his eccentric methods of teaching, but that could be partially due to our wonderful adventure with Professor Lupin last year.

And as for Snapey- Wapey...Well...Let's just say you should've seen the look on his face when I introduced him to the cat. (Who proceeded to throw up a half-eaten Mud Lizard on his desk.)

The First Task was certainly entertaining!

I've never seen Jill become so engrossed in any form of entertainment in my entire life.

And when Diggory got his head lit on fire, she was clawing at her own head as if she was feeling his pain.

Ha.

Anyways, the next big event on the Hogwarts agenda was the greatly anticipated Yule Ball.

And of course, the one thing that I thought would be pretty darn easy, turned out more complicated than ever.


	4. Yuletide Trauma

Muggle-Lover.

Oooooh, what a phrase. What a rediculous, stupid, shouldn't-be-bad-but-it-is-phrase.

I smudged the tears off of my cheeks with the corner of my bedspread.

Muggle-lover.

Nobody ever gets excited when you say "Wizard-Lover" or "Witch-Lover" or even "Squib-Lover."

And what does HE care anyways? I dont care if he's a Muggle-Lover. His family obviously doesn't care. HELL, his whole bloody family is composed of Muggle-Lovers. Blood-traitors, the lot of them, down to the very last freckle.

"Damn you, Weasley." I spat at the picture frame on my wobbly nightstand. Fred's impish face smiled and grinned and winked as if to mock me.

Bastard.

The picture frame fell over of its own accord.

I sighed.

And then there was_ Jill._

Poor, poor Jill.

This was the closest I had ever come to hating my best friend.

And yet, I know she couldn't help it.

She's rash and impulsive. It's a flaw.

I _knew_ this about her. I just thought I knew Fred better.

A soft knock sounded at my door.

I dove onto my side, and thrust my back to the door. Perhaps I could pretend to be asleep.

The door creaked lightly as it opened, and an annoyingly Fred-esque voice inquired, "Sarah? I'm comin' in now, whether your decent or not."

I heard George's feet shuffle inside and the latch of the door click shut behind him.

An akward silence resounded. I didn't move.

"Oh, come off it. I know you're not asleep. There's no drool."

His footsteps crossed the room and stopped at the foot of my bed. The bed springs creaked and the mattress beside me feet sagged shortly after, indicating he had sat down.

There was another akward silence. The loudest I had ever heard.

"If you talk to me, I know you'll feel better." George said quietly. For once, the sarcasm was completely gone from his voice.

I opened my eyes, although the tear-infused mascara was causing my eyelids to stick together.

"You don't have to say anything to make me feel better." I muttered, trying not to let my nose make a sniffling noise.

"Well, I want to."

"No, I mean... You're making me feel better just sitting there."

He smiled, and absent mindedly started picking at a stray thread on my bedspread.

"So what's all this anyways?"

"Fred is being an idiot."

"Yes, and he's spent many years perfecting it." He let out a sigh that had the sound of a laugh. Sort of like a "Ha", before continuing, "Anything in particular he can say to get back into your good graces?"

"THAT' THE PROBLEM!" I cried, rolling over and propping myself up on my elbows. "_He's_ the one who'se cross with _me_!!"

The expression of George's face was as if he had set off a firework at the Burrow and no noise had come out.

I sighed, and hitched up my left knee sock which had fallen down.

"You see...It's mostly Jill's fault." I began, then, upon weighing it out in my mind, "Actually, it's _entirely_ her fault. I don't know what she wants anymore. Or who. Or when."

George's eyes widened. "Fred??"

"Ron!"

His face immediately screwed up into a look of repulse. "UGH!"

"I KNOW."

"Thats REVOLTING!"

"It's embarassing!"

"Are you _sure_? I mean, I thought she was clever!"

I shrugged my shoulders desperately. I hadn't been this confounded since that time Neville turned the boggart into Professor Snape.

"Well, Jill never has been very fond of Hermione...But...We were in the Study hall this afternoon, and she overheard Ron ask Hermione to the Yule Ball."

George interjected with a loud squawk of laughter. "What did she say?"

"No, of course."

This made his laughter louder. I swatted him with a pillow before continuing, "And Jill got really antsy. Flustered. She practically mutilated her parchment for Professor Binns." I mimed the motion of Jill stabbing madly at a slip of parchment with her quill, "Anyways, Fred asked her what had got her knickers in a bunch, and well..."

George sighed. "She called us a bunch of Muggle-lovers."

"Yes."

George went back to plucking at the stray thread. "So, naturally, Fred is mad at you for all of this?"

"Well...He and Jill had a row, and then he pointed out that I was Muggle-born, and then I said that there's nothing wrong with loving muggles, and then he sort of screamed at me and I cried."

George shook his head. "Like a little baby."

"But what about..." My lower lip started to tremble, and I felt a fresh batch of tears begginning to brew behind my eyes.

"What?"

"The ball!!!" I whimpered.

George sniffed. "It's Fred. The Ball's in a few days. I'd give him about 28 minutes before he comes dragging his feet back here."

I smiled.

George was right.

It's Fred.

The Yule Ball wasn't until Saturday.

There was plenty of time.

-----------------------------------------------

**THURSDAY.**

Ahh finally. Potions. My favorite class of the week.

There was a spring in my step as I scampered down the dank, greenish stone steps.

Something about those cold stoney walls was especially inviting today.

"Good Afternoon, Professor!" I sang as I burst open the door into his classroom. Something foul smelling greeted my nose. "Whew! What's cooking?"

Snape looked up miserably from his cauldron. "Class starts in twenty minutes, Poe."

I slammed my books down on the table directly in front of Snape's desk. "I like to think of these next twenty minutes as exclusively mine to share with you, Snape."

I smiled in spite of myself. Just saying the name Snape makes your whole mouth feel funny.

"In complete seriousness, Snape, WHAT are you making? It smells noxious."

He ignored me. He still hadn't quite forgiven me for naming the cat.

"Do you really have nothing better to do, Poe? Or do you enjoy making others suffer?" Snape put alot of emphasis on the word _suffer_ for effect.

"Only you, Professor."

There was a loud clatter and a splash as the vial Snape was ladeling potion into plunked into his cauldron.

"What did you say?"

I looked at him, puzzled. The one time I wasn't trying to offend.

"Poe?"

"Professor?"

Thats when it hit me. My eyes widened.

"SNAPEY! SNAPEY-WAPEY WAPEY WAPES! SNAPESTER! SNAPESTY! SNAPEY DELUXE WITH A SIDE OF SNAPEY WAPEY!!"

Snape sighed (probably of out of disguised relief), and picked up his ladel off the stone floor, before venturing off to find another vial.

I called him PROFESSOR.

I put a shaky hand to my forehead.

Was I ill? I must be! Merlins beard, I must be DYING!

I sighed moodily and slunk into my seat.

I knew what was wrong.

"Weasley!" I hissed.

Snape stuck his greasy head out from behind his shelf and glared at me.

He thought I was insane.

"Perhaps you should go to the hospital wing." He said icily, "And take your time."

I huffed. "I'm not ill, Snape. I'm simply dateless."

Snape rolled his eyes at my patheticness. "Pity."

I whipped my head around.

"That is unless _you'd_ like to be my date, Snapey Wapey!"

Snape's eyes widened, then narrowed into a glare.

"...I hate you." he growled.

"I hate you too." I grinned, before opening my potions book to the assigned page.

Honestly, you've got to appreciate a guy like Snape.

No matter how many times he takes away house points, fails you, or uses his teaching authority to get you down, you always know that your friendship is very deep.

So deep, in fact, that you can't even see it.

Unless you look really, really hard.

-------------------------------------------------

**Friday**

One day till Ball..

The Gryffindor Common Room. Sundown.

I sat with Hermione at a table, trying fruitlessly to write my paper for Hagrid.

I sat on the very edge of my seat, bouncing my leg nervously.

"Would you cut that out?" Hermione spat at me.

"Sorry." I mumbled.

I stared down at my pitifully naked parchment.

Fred was sitting across the room from me, surrounded by Harry Potter and his brother's crew.

I knew he was making sure I saw him.

...And it was working!!

It was as if every sense I had was keen on picking up every movement he made.

The Yule Ball was tomorrow night, and still, dateless.

"Cut it out!!!" Hermione hissed again. My leg had been bouncing so violently that it was shaking the table.

"Sorry." I crossed my legs tightly and tried very hard to rack my brain for anything I knew about Flobberworms for Care of Magical Creatures.

I let out a short sigh, and brushed my bangs out of my face.

It was pointless.

Suddenly, I picked out Fred's voice amoung the jumble of quiet voices.

"You'd better hurry up and find someone, mate, or else all the good one's will be taken."

My heart jumped. They HAD to be talking about the Ball.

"Well who are YOU going with, then?" Ron said moodily at his brother.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fred look carefully around the room.

My heart started beating very rapidly.

My hands started to sweat.

This is it! He's looking for me!

I smiled to myself.

It certainly took him long enough, but all that matters is that I finally have a date to the-

"Oi! Angelina!"

I looked up so fast, you would have thought he'd said my name.

Angelina Johnson, my fellow Chaser, answered back. "What?"

My eyes flared.

"Wanna go to the ball with me?"

My jaw dropped slightly.

I whipped my head to look at her. My eyes bored into the side of her head, as if _daring_ her to say yes to MY BOYFRIEND.

"Yeah, alright!" she grinned. She then turned back to her conversation with Katie Bell, grinning widely.

I looked at Fred, in shock.

His eyes met mine.

"See?" He said to Ron, his eyes still locked with mine, "Piece of cake."

I slammed my book shut so hard that Hermione's quill globbed on the sentence she was writing.

"Sarah!" she squealed, dabbing it up with the edge of her robe sleeve.

But I didn't hear her.

My heart broke like a water balloon, sending tears straight up to my eyes.

I couldn't believe it.

Fred Weasley.

How could you?


	5. Snow Monsters and Blueberry Muffins

**Saturday.**

Given the circumstances, I knew this was going to be a particularly bad morning.

In protest to it, I slumped my way out of the girl's dormitory, face devoid of makeup and my mass of hair like a stringy-wavy topiary capping my head.

"Oi, Poe!" my annoying classmate Mandy Hudgens called from across the common room.

I didn't acknowledge her. I just continued my robotic march out of the portrait hole.

"Good lord!" Jill remarked, eyeballing me as I sat down across from her in the Great Hall.

I grunted and grabbed a blueberry muffin from the basket placed conveniently to my right.

"Someone's pleasant this morning." Jill chirped, hiding her face behind an enormous book. "Whats got your wand in a knot?"

"Nuffing." I said through a mouthful of muffin.

She peered at me over the rim of her book. She looked as though she were about to say something matter-of-factly, but she just giggled.

"I'm sorry, I just can't take you seriously when you look like that." she sighed, and fumbled at her wrist for an extra hair elastic.

"Fanks." I said, stuffing the rest of the muffin in my mouth so I could accept the elastic.

She shut the book, and stroked the cover lovingly before folding her hands on top of it.

"Well, I was thinking that we could meet in the 4th floor bathroom at three o clock sharp. That would give me enough time to curl my hair, and by the looks of it you're going to have quite a battle with that mane...On second thought, maybe we should meet at two- thirty...Anyways, makeup wont be a problem, since I just aquired this really neat book on the artful application of eyeshadow...yes, we'll use that...What color is your dress again?"

I looked at her, mouth slightly ajar and sprouting a second muffin, "Scahwept."

She looked repulsed, cleared her throat and continued, "Well mine is mahogany, which probably will clash with scarlet, so perhaps seperate pictures would be a good idea. Not that Fred will want to be in a picture with me OR Owen Rankin..."

"Owen Rankin?" I asked, placing my pumpkin juice glass down with a thud. "What happened with Draco?"

"His father arranged for him to go with Pansy Parkington...Silly little nit...Says that he thinks Draco ought to go with a fellow Slytherin." she huffed. "Anyways, I'm one of Rankins tutors. I told him if he dresses nicely, I'll change his grade in Charms."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, regardless, Fred wont be in the picture."

"What?"

I shook my head heavily. "See you at three."

-----------------------

I wandered aimlessly around the common room for about 13 minutes before deciding that outdoors was simply the place to be when trying to wallow in self-pity.

Morosely, I jammed my knit hat on my head before heaving open the heavy doors leading out onto the grounds.

The sky was partly cloudy, however the sun was shining horrificly, reflecting off the sheet of snow and blinding me.

I ducked behind my scarf, and trudged out into the morning.

Bloody. Hell.

In the distance I saw a couple of Gryffindors having a snowball fight near the lake.

To avoid becoming a casualty, I decided to head in the opposite direction, onto the Quidditch Pitch.

There were no practices scheduled today, due to the magnificent ball this evening. Noone wanted to chance spending this glorious christmas eve in the hospital wing.

The snow on the feild was undisturbed, like a pool of milk.

The stands looked so lonely, empty and snow-capped.

Poor stands. I knew how they felt.

If I were to compare them to my situation, I would say that the benches of my heart were empty, and very cold without someone's bottom to warm them.

I sighed, and walked onto the pitch. Somehow, It was therapeutic to make footprints on the nice, clean feild. Almost like popping bubble wrap.

I marched right into the middle of the feild, and looked upwards, as if expecting to see the stands full, or some other miracle to make me feel less alone.

I had never seen the Pitch from this angle before.

It's not bad.

I flopped backwards into the snow.

Immediately I regretted it as a blast of icy powder shot down my neck.

Part of me wanted to make a snow-angel, but I couldn't muster the motivation to move.

I closed my eyes.

Perhaps I should just stay here all day long.

Skip the bloody ball.

Skip christmas.

Alone.

"Cold?"

I was suddenly aware of a person standing right beside me. It startled me. I opened one eye.

I assumed it was George from the red hair. I closed my eyes again.

"Oh, no. It's quite toasty down here, actually."

There was a thump as George flopped into the snow beside me, accompanied by a "Bugger!" as some powder flew down his neck.

I smiled under my scarf.

"You're a dirty liar." he said, teeth chattering.

"You're an idiot."

There was a silence. However it wasn't akward. It was just a friendly silence, a living silence, a silence that didnt just hang in the air but rather danced around from face to face.

"D'you want to make a snow angel?" George asked.

"Yeah."

We waved our arms and legs around like a couple of loonies. We were too close for the angels to come out properly, and they sort of merged together to create a snow monster.

We stood and brushed ourselves off, admiring our creation.

"Well, thats right crude." George laughed.

I let out a short, brief, "Ha."

George kicked at a clump of snow with his shoe.

"I suppose your still rather upset about Angelina?"

I sat down and hunched over like a pessimistic rag doll.

I sighed, and hung my head down. My hair was so massive that it pulled at my head like a lead weight.

"Hug me." I demanded weakly.

George knelt down and obliged, in an akward, one- armed way. I could feel his shaky breath in my ear, and his cold nose on the side of my head.

He then sat down beside me again, sighing like an old man in an armchair.

"Sarah?"

"Yeah?"

"Go to Ball with me?"

"Sure."

Something small whizzed by our faces so close and so fast, you could feel a light breeze.

"Bloody-" George huffed, craning his neck to see what had almost hit us.

"Was that a snowball?" I asked.

The object whizzed back, and hovered by our faces for a moment before humming away into the empty stands.

"A snitch?"

My mouth hung open in amazement. as I stared at the place it had just been.

My heart rate had spiked, just like the excitement you get when you see a shooting star.

We both chuckled and scurried off the pitch, just in case a bludger was to follow.


	6. The Yule Ball

"THERE you are!" Jill exclaimed as I rushed into the 4th floor lavatory.

I gasped a bit when I saw her- her eyes had been painted with the most excruciatingly bad liquid eyeliner application I'd ever seen. She looked a bit like Percy Weasley- with horn-rimmed glasses.

"Merlin's beard!" I snickered, heaving the long gown-bag onto the edge of a sink, "As your best friend, I'm not letting you leave the loo looking like that."

Jill examined her reflection in the mirror, and then set her wand down with a defeated sigh.

"Very well." She bent over the sink and began washing her face into a clean slate.

"Luckily for you, this frilly business involves two things I'm extraordinarily keen at." I boasted, reaching into my stachel and pulling out two bottles of haircare products, "Muggle- methods, and potions."

Jill humphed from behind the towel she was using to pat her face dry.

"Sit." I motioned for her to sit on the step stool I had pulled out from under the sink.

I pulled out my makeup kit, whose multiple compartments sprung open like a jack in the box.

"Alright, lets start with the base..."

I fiddled around her face with a spongey applicator. Then a large brush. Then a little brush. Then one of those little things that look almost like a Q- Tip.

"Ah you shuh oo kno wha yow doohing?" Jill attempted to speak as I made her make an "O" with her lips.

With a flourish, I dabbled on the last bit of shiny baby pink lipgloss.

"See for yourself." I proclaimed proudly.

Eyeing me questioningly, she picked up a small hand mirror.

"Goodness. My eyes look huge!"

"Sorry. I used brown to match your dress..."

"No, it's wonderful! Truly amazing!" She snapped shut the compact with a grin.

She eyed the two bottles of Hair Potion I had set on the counter.

I sighed.

"Allow me."

It took the entire 4 hours we had set aside in the lavatory to finally ready ourselves for the ball.

Jillian looked unbelieveably gorgeous. Her gown was made of a flowing chocolate satin that made the pink in her cheeks look as rosy as a china doll. It was cut like a halter, with an intricate silver buckle in the center. It was understated, but stunning.

We had managed to coax some thick, lovely barrel curls out of her normally pin straight hair, which was pulled back on the top into a lovely rhinestone clip.

She gave my hand a quick squeeze as we left the lavatory, then was off to find Owen Rankin.

I sighed, and smoothed my gown.

I was due to meet George in the Common Room.

Slipping out of my silver pumps, I picked them up and scurried up the stairs.

I reached the portrait hole, walking and trying to put my shoes back on at the same time.

Of course, this was the cue for the portrait hole to swing open and Fred Weasley to come striding out, with Angelina Johnson on his arm.

The remaining pump slipped from my hands and skittered embarassingly onto the floor.

"Bugger!" I spat, hastily picking it up and avoiding eye contact with the redhead.

I could feel the tension as they walked by, because their conversation stopped abruptly, and didn't begin again until they began their descent down the stairs.

"Of _course _you made a fool of yourself. Of _course _Angelina is wearing red robes..." I muttered, buckling the strap of my shoe and turning to check my reflection in the suit of armor.

My gown, lucklily, was much more flattering than Angelina's, even though the color was extremely similar.

It was a simple, strapless, scarlett gown. No frills or tiers or bows or sparkles.

Just. Red.

My dirty blonde mane had been wrestled into a sleek, elegant bun. A rhinestone headband sparkled like a modest tiara. My short, annoying fringe even decided to sweep itself to the side so I could see properly.

I swept on a final application of sheer lipgloss.

Perfection.

I jumped as suddenly Fred's reflection appeared over my shoulder.

"What the bloody hell do _you_ want?" I snapped.

He looked confused.

"Last time I checked, you were my date."

It was my turn to be confused.

I whipped around.

"_George_?!?"

"What?"

"You and Fred are wearing the EXACT SAME THING!" I cried in exasperation.

"Down to the last doxie-chewed button hole. They're all mum could find. They used to belong to our unfortunate uncles, Gideon and Fabian." He grumbled with an eye roll.

I sighed warily.

"Well, at least one of us looks amazing." George said sheepishly.

I blushed guiltily.

"I didn't mean you looked bad! I was just... Stay by me, okay?"

He just grinned and held out his arm, which I accepted gratefully.

Let's get this party started.

-----------------------------------

"Are you ready?" George asked, as we halted at the foot of the stairs.

All around us gowns twirled and robes fluttered, girls giggled and glitter sparkled.

Nauseating.

"To vomit?" I whispered back.

He nodded with a quick grin.

With a deep breath, we stepped off of the steps and were engulfed into the torrential taffeta pouring into the Great Hall.

For a moment, even I was speechless.

The Great Hall was unrecognizeable.

Everything was white.

It was as if we had fallen into an Eskimo fairytale.

"Do you suppose this is what the inside of a snowflake looks like?" I whispered.

"Yes." George whispered back, taking my hand.

I got over my shock as Millicent Bullstrode- a rather large Slytherin- pushed past me huffily.

"Should we..." I asked akwardly.

"Dance?"

"We don't have to."

"No, no... I'll try anything once. Twice if I like it." George grinned.

I smiled, and we made our way onto the dance floor.

He put one hand on my waist, and I was suddenly aware of how incredibly akward this was.

I put my hand on his shoulder, and George was suddenly aware of how incredibly akward it was.

He took one step forward, and suddenly we were dancing.

Beautifully.

----------------------------------------------

3 hours later, there I was, my silver pumps abandoned, jumping up and down next to my best friend Jill.

We would alternate between jumping up and down, spinning around, and yelling random syllables at eachother's faces.

It was great.

"PUNCH?!" she shouted.

"OKAY!" I shouted back.

We wove our way out of the crowd and headed over to the punch table.

"This is so much fun!" I gasped, pounding back a glass of punch.

Jill sighed and flopped back into a seat. "You've got that right."

I refilled my glass and gulped it down in the most horrificly unladylike manner.

"I hope you're not driving." George teased, coming up behind me and causing me to sputter.

"Knobhead." I smirked, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand and proceeding to wipe my hand on the sleeve of his robes.

The Band that Needs No Introduction slowed their tempo to something akwardly slow.

My heart pitter- pattered.

The dreaded slow-dance.

I glanced onto the dance floor.

No sign of Frangelina.

"Last dance?" George asked, offering me a hand.

I glanced back to ask Jill if she would mind, but she had scurried off to Draco's table.

"Sure."

He led me onto the dance floor, and we started to dance that god- aweful dance that teenagers do.

You know what I'm talking about; the standing so close you can smell their breath and shuffling about in a circle.

The song was really cheesy.

One of those intensely overplayed songs that you imagine your entire lovelife around until the next hit single is released.

George was humming along to it badly.

I giggled.

"I'm really glad I wound up coming with you." I said quietly, leaning over and resting my head on his shoulder.

"Anything for you, Sally." he said back.

I opened my eyes.

George never called me Sally. Ever. That was Fred's "thing".

Across the room, I saw George.

He was smirking at me in an I-just-put-a-dung-bomb-under-your-bed-can-you-smell-it- sort of way.

I jerked my head upwards.

"Fred?" I whimpered.

All of the repressed anger that I had been saving up for him suddenly vanished and was replaced with this disgusting, watery love.

He took my hand and spun me around like a kid who doesn't know how to dance.

"I have 3 minutes to make up for what a wanker I've been." a smile began to appear at the edges of his mouth. "But, I promise, you can yell at me later."

My mouth opened and shut a few times, but the sentences I was trying to form were floating around by my feet somewhere.

"That's alright. Speaking is optional." he teased. He leaned in a bit closer. "You look beautiful."

I finally found my voice.

"You're just figuring this out now?"

"You know that I'm an idiot."

He smiled largely this time.

And I couldn't help it, but I leaned over and kissed him.

I made to pull away but he put a hand on my cheek, as if asking my face to stay there.

It was like...finally finding the one puzzle piece you've been looking for for 15 minutes.

I finally pulled away and just melted into his arms.

(At this point, we were no longer dancing.)

I felt him rest his cheek in my hair, and whisper (to either himself to to me), "Oh God, I love you."


	7. Happy Walls

The one thing i will always remember about that night was how beautiful it was.

The stars were the only thing in the sky, the breeze blew hard but it was so warm it felt soft. Everything seemed to be ready to say goodbye to this semester at Hogwarts. The grass was turning green, the giant squid was blowing bubbles in the lake, and students chatted animatedly.

Finals were over. We were in the clear.

The Final Task was that last big deal before summer holiday.

I sat down with Fred, George, and Lee in the stands.

"Pretty amazing, isn't it?" Lee remarked, referring to the enormous conjured maze in which the Final Task would be held.

"Wicked." I grinned, hugging my robes a bit more tightly as the breeze began to cool.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Ludo Bagman's voice echoed over the stands like running water, silencing the excited hum of the students. "The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand..."

Bagman bent down to consult a piece of parchment.

Fred elbowed me.

"What?"

His freckled head moved close to my ear. His breath tickled my ear when he spoke,

"Give Potter a cheer, won't you?"

I gave him a look, then snootily polished my Cedric Diggory pin on the sleeve of my robes.

Fred smirked at the pin. "I realize you are quite distracted with Diggory's horribly disfigured face, but Potter did some talking with George and I last night."

"About?"

"About if he wins."

"Yeah?"

Fred's smirk turned into a wonderfully mischevious grin.

He was about to tell me something clearly irresponsible in a delightful way, when someone scrambled clumsily onto the seat to my left.

"Jill!" I squealed as she stood unceremoniously on my foot.

"Sorry!" she huffed as she flopped down beside me.

"Mmmm" I grumbled, turning back to Fred.

He whispered into my ear, almost afraid to speak it out loud it was so absurd: "He'd loan us the prize money to start a joke shop."

A JOKE SHOP?!

I looked at Fred quizzically.

"Thats like...A dream." I muttered incoherently.

But Fred didn't hear me. He was on his feet hooting and cheering as Diggory and Potter were enveloped into the maze.

--

Would you take a look at this place?

The eneven floorboards that begged to be tripped over.

The warm golden walls that echoed laughter through them.

The huge crooked windows that looked out upon Diagon Alley.

And it was ours.

The Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

I sat down in the middle of the floor, cross legged.

The walls, though bare for now, would soon be raucous and loud with all of our wonderful inventions.

I looked around me, and tried to imagine the shop filled with the bustle of customers.

For a few seconds, I could hear the pop of fireworks, the shrieks of suprise, and the boundless laughter.

But that lasted only a few seconds, before once again I could hear the screaming.

The gnawing, hollow, agonized screaming.

The sound of a father losing his only son.

I popped my eyes open as wide as they'd go. If I shut them now, I'd have to see it all again, replayed in my minds eye... Cedric Diggory's stiff corpse sprawled out on the grass. McGonnagal's face frozen in horror. The way Cho's face crumpled like a piece of paper.

My eyes flew around the room, grazing the golden walls and the cheery windows, the quiet sunshine reflecting off the floating dust.

I couldn't stop to think. I didn't want to see it again.

I had to be here. In today, where there was no hurt and no fear and no loss.

In here, in the shop, with hope and oppurtunities.

I hugged my arms close to me and rocked slowly back and forth.

But what good was it?

The hope?

You Know Who is back. From the minute I heard it, I knew that this was the beginning of the end.

This is the tip of the hurt. He's just getting started.

And not all of us would make it out alive.

Against my better judgement, I squeezed my eyes shut to barricade the tears I knew were coming.

I didn't want to see the golden walls. The warm sunshine.

It was mocking us.

And why shouldn't it?

Why should I be allowed to sit here, wishing blindly for some hope, when people are going to die?

Why should we buy a jokeshop with the money we stole from a dead man?

I felt my stomache lurch with nausea.

Suddenly the walls, floorboards and windows seemed so wrong.

So offensive.

Sure, we had offered Mr. Diggory the money, but if it had gone to Diggory like it should've, would he have wanted this?

He died trying to get the winnings we'd just forked over for this shop.

This stupid, smiling, shop.

For once, the joke was on us.

A sick, revolting joke.

I stood in an uncharacteristically graceful movement, trying to ignore those happy walls.

I wanted to break them. I wanted them to stop smiling at me. I wanted them to look as hopeless as I felt.

With all of the anger, fear, and nausea I felt, I made a fist with my right hand and slammed into the grinning wall.

The wave of pain that washed over my knuckles and into my wrist made me yelp and swing around like a baby.

That made me even MORE upset.

I wasn't ready for this kind of a war. For this kind of fear.

I stopped spinning and ran out the front door, pushing past Fred and making him drop the moving box he was carrying.

"Sarah!" He called out after me.

But I was already halfway down the street.

I was never setting foot in that shop again.


End file.
